


Hannibal Lecter at Comic Con

by missdorothysnarker



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Dubious Consent, General Creepiness, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Power Imbalance, San Diego Comic-Con, absinthe and existentialism lite, comics writer!Hannibal, good old-fashioned buggery, morally dubious behavior, teen fanboy!Will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:30:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4339475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdorothysnarker/pseuds/missdorothysnarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal Lecter, legendary writer of the European comics world, is forced to rub shoulders with the sweaty masses at San Diego Comic Con. Attending a panel by chance, he encounters an awkward teenage fanboy by the name of Will Graham, whom he intends to relieve of his pesky virginity...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was nothing Hannibal Lecter despised more than San Diego Comic Con International. The endless lines, the tasteless costumes, the crass commerialisation of popular culture worshipped by the mindless masses as high art. 

But as one of Europe's most highly-acclaimed cult graphic novel writers, it was a necessary evil that he attend signings of his latest metaphysical horror masterpiece, Le Cuisinier Du Cannibale, which paid homage to the likes of Dante and Milton, Lovecraft and Giger. He had insisted on staying at a five-star luxury hotel downtown for the duration of the hellish ordeal.

The title should have been nominated for an Eisner, but he and his partner, the surrealist artist Bedelia du Maurier, had been robbed of their rightful recognition, in favour of the Verger Twins, a creative team whose brand was built both on their former status as child prodigies and their quasi-incestuous relationship. Only industry insiders were aware that Margot was exclusively interested in the fairer sex, while her brother Mason preferred pederasty. 

But no matter. Hannibal would be sure to have a little chat with the head of the awards board, very soon indeed. Such ignorant judgement was not to be tolerated, even amongst American plebeians.

Yet even Hannibal was not entirely sure how he found himself entering a room previewing an upcoming television series which would be a follow-up to The Omen, one of his personal favourite films of the 1970s. It was imperative to see how the horror classic was desecrated by a Hollywood network television, attempting to cash in on the trend for such loud, lurid circuses as American Horror Story.

He spied an empty seat near the exit, all the easier to beat a hasty retreat should the panel be too tedious to bear. It was next to a teenage boy whose plastic bag advertised some foul spectacle identified only as 'VD' – surely not shorthand for venereal disease – spilling freebie comics and posters into the aisle. 

Hannibal inquired if the seat was taken, only for the boy to mumble something unintelligible and nod his head, all without eye contact. A classic neurotic case, likely on the Autistic-Aspergers spectrum. He was a wiry youth, fidgeting with restless energy and incased in cheap clothes: a muddy, muted t-shirt, jeans and a hoodie. Elfin features, a crow's-nest of dark curls, blue-green eyes behind gawky glasses. A shadow of stubble on skin revealed a hand unpracticed in the art of shaving, with faint traces of acne on the delicate jaw. Crippling social anxiety and sexual desperation poured off the boy in waves.

Will Graham, read his badge. Hannibal felt the boy's eyes skittering over him, then away, afraid to be caught staring. 

'Is, uh, your name Persian or something?' he asked, throat working nervously. 'It's just, um, unusual. I mean, better than something like Will, the name of every other guy around.'

Hannibal smiled. 'It is of Punic and Assyrian origin, meaning 'grace of Baal', the god of fertility and fortune.'

'Oh. That's cool.' 

Will was quiet for a moment. Hannibal let him work up his courage to continue the conversation.

'Are you an artist or something?' He gestured at Hannibal's badge, which was for professionals only, but did not specify in what field. Evidently Will was not familiar with his work.

'I am a writer of comics.' Hannibal did not elaborate.

'Oh. I've never heard of you.' 

Noticing Hannibal’s arched brow, he hastened to add: 'Not that that means anything. I, uh, I mostly read mainstream stuff – DC, Marvel. But being a comics writer – that's awesome.'

'Do you write?' Hannibal sensed he was an obsessive fan, likely an aspiring creator of some sort.

'No. Not really. I – I like to draw though. But I'm not that good.'

'Perhaps you should let me be the judge of that. Do you have any of your work with you?' asked Hannibal, humoring him, just to see the boy's eyes light up.

'Uh, no. Not on me. I don't have a portfolio or anything like that, but my sketchbook's back at the hotel.'

'I see.'

At that moment, the moderator walked to the podium to introduce the cast onstage. Hannibal had lost interest in the panel long ago, his attention diverted to the boy beside him.

Will turned to him and whispered 'You know, you look kind of like the guy playing Damien. I mean, a little bit.'

Hannibal glanced over to the actor. Perhaps there was some faint resemblance between them; angular jawlines and cheekbones, aquiline noses and sweeps of dark blond hair. Without vanity, Hannibal felt his own features to be far more distinguished and distinctive than the young star. But then he was not wearing one of his bespoke, four-thousand-dollar, three-piece suits, donning instead boot-cut jeans and a leather motorcycle jacket. 

'He's hot. Not that I'm gay or anything.' 

Ah, the typical teenage boy's defensiveness towards homosexuality.

'Heaven forbid anyone mistake you for a homosexual,' said Hannibal wryly.

Will flushed. 'No, that's not what I – I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be offensive or anything.' He swallowed convulsively. 'Are you gay?'

Hannibal was amused. 'One could say I appreciate the beauty of both genders.'

'Oh. I've never met anybody who was bisexual before. Except in porn or whatever,' he said a little too loudly, earning stares and giggles from those around him.

Hannibal pretended to be paying attention to the panel, watching the boy out of the corner of his eyes. Will squirmed from being ignored, gnawing his fingernails. An unattractive habit he would have to be broken of. His phone chirped with a message, and he pulled it from his pocket, oblivious of the dirty looks he garnered. 

Hannibal could make out multiple texts from the same person – 'dad'. An overprotective parent, no doubt. Worried about his son getting lost in the crowd, his vulnerability being taken advantage of, exploited by someone, as Hannibal intended to do himself.

Will typed furiously on his phone, before tucking it away, crossing his legs and jogging his foot up and down. Fast as a striking snake, Hannibal caught his knee and held it down. The boy flinched and tensed, as if he'd been shocked. Hannibal could see that his pupils were blown black behind his glasses, body frozen in fear from being touched, offering no resistance.

He kept his hand on the boy's knee for the rest of the panel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just attended SDCC for the third year in a row, and I love it even though it's absolute madness and your feet get swollen and your voice hoarse. Also that Hannibal panel was possibly the last ever /sob/
> 
> Anyway, on my way home in the airport, the image of our beloved dapper sociopath Hannibal Lecter attending Comic-Con against his will, and loathing the entire experience until he met teenage fanboy Will, just wouldn't leave me alone...
> 
> This is the result of my sleep-deprived, over-stimulated brain, drawing on some of my personal experiences, although sadly I am neither a famous writer nor have I ever slept with one.
> 
> Enjoy.

Will followed him like a lost little lamb to the signing area where Bedelia, her personal assistant Beverly, and the student intern Abigail awaited his arrival. The line was already lengthy, with fanatic fans jostling each other to photograph him, clutching their battered copies of his work in their perspiring palms.

Hannibal smiled at the swarming throng and lifted a hand in greeting, feeling God-like at the rabid devotion on display. At least his admirers had excellent taste, unlike the vast majority of Comic-Con attendees.

He saw the boy pull back, hesitant to follow further as he approached the booth. As he sat down, Bedelia inclined her head, murmuring 'Ah, Hannibal. Delighted you were able to make an appearance.'

Texting furiously on her Blackberry, Beverly added: 'We were about to send out a search party. You know, some celebrities have been cornered in the bathroom already.'

Hannibal shuddered at the thought. 

'So who's spastic-boy over there?' asked Abigail, her steely gaze turned on Will, who still hung back nervously, getting in people's way in the thoroughfare.

'That charming creature is William, whom I happened to sit beside at a panel.'

'Better watch out, Hannibal. Puppy-dog-eyes looks like prime jailbait to me,' commented Beverly.

Hannibal did not reply, preoccupied with signing his books and trading banalities with fans. 

Abigail made her way over to Will, weaving expertly through the crowd. Too distant to make out what she was saying, Hannibal watched as Will went rigid, ears and neck burning red, evidently unable to lift his eyes above the gauzy scarf knotted around Abigail's throat.

She returned, lips pursed thinly, and bent over the table to mutter in his ear.

'He gave you his number and wants to know if you can take a look at his drawings later. I told him that I didn't think so. You can thank me later.'

Hannibal narrowed his eyes.

'Go back and tell him you made an error, and that I'd be delighted to take a look at his work.'

Abigail stared at him. 'You've got to be fucking kidding me.'

Hannibal's look made abundantly clear his thoughts on the matter, both of her audacity to challenge him, and her use of crude language. 

She rolled her eyes and walked back to Will. Hannibal glanced over to them and saw Will's face light up with a shy smile. Abigail looked annoyed, likely because she herself had been harboring hopes that Hannibal might one day seduce her. Doll-faced and ruthlessly ambitious as she was, he had no desire to do so.

'And here I thought the grand Hannibal Lecter wasn't skeevy enough to fuck his fans. Guess there's a first time for everything. Thanks to you I have no illusions of integrity left,' said Beverly.

Hannibal ignored her, smiling at the next frothing-at-the-mouth fool in line, his fountain pen at the ready.

Bedelia leaned over to him on the pretense of taking a fresh water bottle. She murmured beneath her breath: 'I advise you to be careful, Hannibal. Far better men than you have been led astray by pretty faces.'

+

Hannibal had a prior commitment to attend dinner that night with his American publisher, Jack Crawford, and his wife Bella, along with Bedelia, Beverly and Abigail, to discuss potential film options as well as licensing rights in Canada. 

Unlike the year before, when they had ate at a popular Thai restaurant where the food had taken an hour and a half to arrive, they met at a more obscure and expensive Italian restaurant. Hannibal had had to return to the restaurant for a personal visit with the chef and manager to ensure such an excessive delay would never occur again. If only people knew how hard he worked to rid the world of the irritating and ill-mannered!

Although normally he was appalled by those who texted while in the presence of others, and would normally never dream of partaking in such rudeness himself. Yet here he was, messaging Will in the men's bathroom out of a strange urgency not to let the boy get away. Not tonight, when he had such plans for them both.

Messages William Details

Today 20:52

Hello William, this is Hannibal Lecter.

hey hannibal. but call me will lol william is my dad

As you wish, Will. Are you free to meet up tonight and bring your sketchbook?

yeah I'm at the hotel so i can meet you downtown in like 30 min

I look forward to it. Are you familiar with the Westgate hotel? 

no but I can google map it

I suggest we meet there in the lobby at 9:30.

cool see you then :) thanks for inviting me

My pleasure.

+


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for dubious consent. Will is underage, plied with absinthe and in thrall of Hannibal, so if any of that concerns you, read no further. 
> 
> Otherwise, onwards, hounds of hell!

Hannibal returned to the table for a passable plate of eggplant and mascarpone ravioli. Abigail in his absence had apparently been gifted free, fresh-made sangria from their server, who had not bothered to check her ID, and had exchanged numbers with him.

She looked at Hannibal for a reaction, a faint smugness on her face, but Hannibal felt their server – Matt – was the kind of young man who favoured smoking sickly-sweet scented vaporizers, an act which made one look as if one were fellating a mechanical phallus. But it was Abigail's prerogative to indulge in acts of youthful folly, and should young Matt distract her from her infatuation with Hannibal, so much the better. 

'Me and Bedelia are going to hit up an afterparty, make the rounds, press some flesh. You down?' asked Beverly, grinning as Hannibal grimaced at her faulty syntax.

'While it sounds like a very tempting proposition, I plan to retire early this evening and get some work done.'

'And by retire for the evening, you mean score an underage booty call, right?'

'My personal life is no one's business but my own,' replied Hannibal primly. 

'The last thing we need is for you to get arrested for statutory rape at Comic Con. The media would have a field day, and not even your lawyers would be able to wriggle you out of that one,' said Bedelia, less concerned as always about the actual ethics of actions, than the legal and professional repercussions of them.

Hannibal had discovered the age of consent in the state of California to be eighteen years of age, unlike that more civilized sixteen of his homeland, Lithuania. Will was most likely seventeen or so, at the very most. But no matter; they would be very careful indeed. He always undertook the utmost precautions in every aspect of his life.

+

Back in his hotel room, Hannibal took a shower and changed to freshen up. Despite his best efforts, the sweltering heat of San Diego caused his skin to dampen, clothes having to be peeled off, a nauseating sensation. He donned a crisp button-up, unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up, bearing his formidable forearms. Carefully chosen to project an air of casual elegance, attractive yet intimidating.

At age thirty-two, Hannibal was more vigilant than ever in countering the waist-thickening effects of the rich foods he favoured. 

He took out a bottle of Clandestine La Bleue, a 53 proof Swiss non-coloured absinthe, which would take on a milky opalescence when cold water was added. Will was likely not much familiar with alcohol, apart from a loathsome mix of illegal brews at teenage parties. But one taste of Clandestine, with its exquisite star anise taste, would render Will very... amenable. 

Not too much, of course. Hannibal had no use for an intoxicated boy. 

Hannibal's phone buzzed with a message. Will was downstairs, in the lobby.

With one last admiring glance in the mirror, Hannibal made his was down to greet his guest.

+

Will was loitering awkwardly in the lobby, a beat-up backpack sliding down one shoulder, obviously in awe of the golden opulence that surrounded him. 

Distracted by a lush centerpiece of peach-coloured roses on the grand piano, he started at Hannibal's presence behind him.

'Oh, crap I – I didn't see you there. Sorry I'm so early. This place is pretty, uh, swanky. Do they have chandeliers or something in the garage, too?'

Hannibal smiled. 

'I'm afraid I wouldn't know about that. But I do believe the facilities include a spa, sauna and a rooftop pool.'

'Seriously? Do they have a hot tub too?' 

Will blushed. 'I mean, you're lucky. I love swimming, but my dad and me are staying at his friend's condo near the convention center. There's no pool or anything like that. It's more like a crash pad, and they just sit around in deck chairs and drink beer and smoke all day. Sorry. That's probably more than you wanted to know.'

Hannibal let him squirm a little, uncomfortable.

'You have brought your sketchbook? Excellent. Shall we take a look at it in my room?'

'Um, sure.' 

Will seemed unable to meet his eyes, but he smiled, tentatively.

Hannibal watched as the boy shifted on his feet in the elevator mirrors as they waited to reach the top floor to his penthouse suite. 

He opened the door, allowing Will to step in before he flicked on the lights.  
Will stood stock still in the center of the suite of glinting brocades and French furniture.

'Holy shit. This is crazy. I mean, look at that view... How much – sorry, I know that's none of my business.'

Hannibal smiled, amused. Personally, he found the room to be ostentatious and slightly vulgar, in the way that Americans often confused with luxury with excess. But it was undeniably pleasing to see the boy's wonderstruck reaction.

'Not at all. My stay here is complimentary, by virtue of my publisher. Please, have a seat and make yourself at home.'

Will perched on the edge of a antique armchair, as though he were afraid it might shatter beneath his weight, placing his backpack on the floor beside him.

'Thanks. You know, this is kind of embarrassing, but I googled you before I came here.'

'Oh? And dare I ask what you discovered?'

'That you're a pretty big deal in comics. You and Bedelia what's-her-name. I can't believe I didn't know who you are.'

'It is of no concern. If fact, I found your unfamiliarity with my work charming.'

'That's good, I guess.'

'Would you like a drink? I have still and sparkling water, and absinthe if you are feeling more adventurous.'

Will perked his head up. 'Absinthe? Isn't that, like, illegal? You know, 'the green fairy', or whatever?'

Hannibal laughed. 'Absinthe prepared from wormwood is largely banned due to its toxicity, but this particular Swiss-made concentration is much less potent and may be purchased legally.'

'Oh, ok. Yeah, I'll try a little.'

Hannibal prepared the elaborate French ritual of pouring the absinthe in a glass, then placing a slotted silver spoon with a sugar cube over top, dripping water from a carafe until the absinthe beneath louched, cloudy. Will watched the ceremony with fascination. 

'Isn't it supposed to be green?'

Hannibal handed him the glass. 'The most well-know absinthe is 'verte' or green, due to plant infusions, but white or colourless absinthe like this one is distilled without colouration.'

Will hummed, taking a sip, then sputtered and coughed. 'That's – that's some strong stuff. It burns!' He tried another nip. 'The taste isn't bad though – it tastes like liquorice!' 

Hannibal leaned back in his chair, watching the boy drink. 'Yes, that would be aniseed-flavour, which is used in Sambuca liqueur, and tastes similar to liquorice candy as well.'

Will drained his glass, smacking his lips. His cheeks were rosy, and his eyes glistered. He was not drunk, but certainly... loosened up. Made open to suggestion. He kicked off his skate shoes to curl up into the chair more comfortably.

'I have to admit, and I know it sounds sad or lame or whatever, but I haven't really been drunk before. I mean, I've stolen some of my dad's beer, but I didn't really like it.'

'What about illicit high-school parties?'  
Will laughed sourly. 'Yeah, let's just say I wasn't really invited to the cool kids' parties. I mean, what friends I do have don't exactly get drunk or high for fun.'

'What does that really matter? So much of adolescence is falling prey to pressure from one's peers, about what is attractive, or desirable. What do the opinions of the ignorant hordes really matter? They are ultimately lesser mortals, who will lead mundane little lives and live little mark behind of their insignificant existence.'

Will stared at him.

'I'm pretty sure I've thought that, in a dream. But you know, people like me aren't brave enough to believe that they're better than other people.'

'And why do you suppose that is?'

Will shrugged. 'I guess because we just want to be liked. To fit in, and be normal.'

'I see. May I ask, Will, if you are religious?'

The boy cocked his head, confused.

'Not really. I mean, I was raised Catholic, but going to Catholic school kind of turned me off religion. I guess you could say I'm agonistic now, or whatever. Why, are you?'

'You could say I am a deeply spiritual man, but in the sense that man is his own god, and no other.'

'That's – you don't think that's kind of narcissistic? I mean, I don't want be offensive-' 

'Not at all. Perhaps we can continue this discussion on some other occasion. Now, shall we take a look at that notebook of yours?'

+


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd... still no porn. Sorry, lovelies, it's coming, I swear!
> 
> So full disclosure: this fic may have been more than slightly inspired by events that transpired during SDCC 2015 - I got this text from my muse saying: "But before you go, I would just like to tell you that I completely support your gay fanfic of our hook-up 100%, just as long as the teen fanboy is not a brony. I'd just like it to be somewhat based on the source material."
> 
> To make this story even better, I met this guy at the Pannibal too. But for the record, both of us are above the age of consent because I don't condone/participate in underage shenanigans in real life.
> 
> Also, I recommend everyone, even if you don't like romcoms or raunch, to go see Trainwreck because I almost died laughing last night, although some moments hit a little too close to home... Ah, Amy Schumer, a girl after my own heart!

+

Will's sketchbook was a tattered Moleskin notebook. He didn't seem to know what to do with himself, fidgeting nervously while Hannibal flipped through it with deep concentration.

It was intimate, uncomfortable to expose yourself, share your innermost thoughts and dreams on paper with another. 

And the drawing themselves were strange, surreal, but not in Bedelia's hyper-polished style. 

Will's sketches were raw and rough, nightmare scratches on paper, revealing an untutored hand with reoccurring motifs of antlers, on which dead girls' pearl-pale bodies were spiked and splayed, a shadowy stag whose fur faded into raven feathers, a dark humanoid whose horned head looked like a vision of Hades, or the Devil himself. Wreathes of flowers entwined with skulls of indeterminate origin, ripe pomegranates splitting apart, bright bloody seeds sucked on by black-shelled snails. 

Will could stand his absorption no longer. 

'So, uh, what do you think? I mean, I know I'm no Michelangelo...'

'No. You are something far less cliché than that long-dead master. Your eye is far more disturbing – unrefined and unschooled, yes, but full of unadulterated horror and beauty... You have caught the sublimity and absurdity of death, a rare feat for one so young.'

Will huffed a laugh. 'I-I'm guessing that's a good thing?'

'Indeed. You have no notion of how singular a gift you have...'

'Um, thanks. So, uh, do you think maybe I have a future in comics?' The boy was half-joking, half in deadly earnestness.

'A future in comics? I shouldn't think so,' he replied, watching Will seem to shrink down.

'Oh. Okay.'

'What I mean by that is not that you are not talented enough, but rather that your untapped potential would be squandered pandering to the demands of such a mass medium.'

'You don't seem to have any problems working in this “mass medium”.'

'The European comics industry is quite different from the American counterpart, I am happy to report. They hold the creators of the medium in higher esteem, although America's stance on comics may now be changing for the better as it becomes increasingly less ghettoized.'

'Right... So then what's your suggestion for me, if not working as an artist in comics?'

'I'll get to that shortly. Please excuse me, I need to make use of the facilities,' said Hannibal, standing up, and in a moment of utterly calculated clumsiness, tripping over Will's feet, so that the dregs of his glass splashed over him, soaking his T-shirt.

'Oh – shit!' cried Will, surprised, mouth hanging open.

'Oh dear, what a mess. My utmost apologies, Will,' said Hannibal, quite contritely. 

'No, it's fine, my bad... ' said Will, tugging at the dark splotch on his shirt.

'I mean, it's not like it's red wine or something. It's just smells really strong, kind of bittersweet.'

'If you like, you may use the washroom to try to rinse it out,' said Hannibal, gesturing to the expansive marble bathroom behind him. 

'Uh, yeah, thanks. That'd be great, but I can wait until you're done or whatever.' 

Will blushed so prettily, so easily, the capillary vessels beneath his fair skin burning brightly.

'Nonsense. Please, I insist.'

'Well, if you insist,' teased Will, looking surprised that he had dared to take such a liberty as mocking Hannibal. 

He kept the door half-open, in unconscious invitation, Hannibal thought. 

'Of course, even the bathroom is bigger than the entire condo!'

'I take no responsibility for its size. You Americans are the ones who prefer to super-size everything, it seems.'

Will laughed, his voice muffled as he pulled his shirt over his head, struggling more with the simple task than unusual due to the alcohol in his system.

He wadded up the cotton shirt and held it under the faucet, allowing Hannibal a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror – a slight, boyish body, but not overly slender, with small, tender nipples and a sparse scattering of dark body hair. Delicious. 

Hannibal felt no shame for his voyeurism, only a heady premonition of things to come.

'If you wish, you may borrow a shirt of mine to wear, though I fear they may be a touch large on you,' called Hannibal. 

'Yeah, actually maybe that'd be for the best, because I just completely drenched my T-shirt and kind of flooded your counter...'

He rifled through his drawers and found a black knit shirt which he rarely wore, tight-fit on his own body, but with Will's build, the boy would be swimming in it, perhaps the collar would slide over and bare one shoulder...

Hannibal knocked on the ajar door, shirt in hand. Will opened it to let him in, before crossing his arms hastily across his chest, shy at being bare-chested in front of him.

'Thanks,' he murmured, tugging on the shirt. It did indeed swamp him, charmingly childish.

Although Hannibal loathed clichés, the truth was the boy looked good enough to eat.

+


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So because I know nothing about wet-shaving, I ended up on a site called 'the Art of Manliness', I kid you not. Nothing like some old-fashioned gender essentialism!
> 
> Also it occurred to me that Hannibal is totally a Randian Ubermensch, and you can't convince me otherwise.
> 
> Trigger Warning for murder ideation which is obviously not carried out. But Hannibal is one dark dude so that should come as no surprise.

+

'Jesus, that's a wicked-looking razor you have there,' Will said, nodding to the straight razor folded beside Hannibal's other shaving paraphernalia: a badger hair shaving brush, a shaving soap in a wooden bowl and a Provencal aftershave balm.

Will reached a finger out to touch the hardwood handle of the straight razor, before shying away as if it would bite him. 

'You may look at it, if you like.'

'Oh, no, thanks. I just – I've never seen any of this fancy, old-school stuff up close. They look like museum pieces from the Victorian age or something. My dad's more of a plastic-razor-from-the-drugstore type of guy. ' 

'The art of the wet shave was once a craft that was passed down from father to son, from generation to generation. It is a lost art now, but I retain nostalgia for practices considered old-fashioned and obsolete.'

'Um, I'm not that good at shaving, as you can probably see. I keep nicking myself and getting red bumps like zits or whatever,' said Will, fingering his scruffy jawline.

'Ah, the curse of the ingrown hair. Caused by those subpar drugstore razors, I'm afraid.' He paused. 'If you wish, I could demonstrate how to perform a superior close, even shave without nicks or missed patches.'

Will swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. 

'Yeah, sure, I'd – I'd like that.'

Hannibal smiled, slightly. 

He took out his hanging strop and began to strop the blade for a keen edge while Will watched anxiously. 

Hannibal gestured for him to sit on the brocade vanity stool, which the boy did, obediently.

Once done smoothing the blade, he wet the badger brush and whipped up a rich, foamy lather which he began to sweep on Will's chin, his cheeks and jaw, above his upper lip.

'It – feels nice. Kind of cold,' said Will, as if to himself.

'I find one of the pleasures of wet shaving is the mediative nature of the act.'

Will hummed, eyes half-closed, inky lashes heavy, as if in a trance.

'No more speaking, if you please. Do not move either, as it would be a tragedy to slit your throat,' said Hannibal. His pretty white throat, tilted upwards and as vulnerable as a submissive animals'.

Hannibal took hold of the boy's head, angling his chin upward for a long, smooth stroke of the blade, baring the pale, clean-shaven skin beneath.

Another, and another stroke, Hannibal pausing only wipe the blade on a hand towel when too heavy with foam.

He was only too aware of how easy it would be for his hand to slip, to slit open Will's throat and bare the delicate meat of the inside of the neck. It would spurt with blood like a geyser, spraying him with warmth as the boy choked to death, sputtering.

But such a fate was not what he had in store for young Will Graham. A more fleeting, exquisite little death indeed. 

He moved on to the face, graceful as if the act of shaving another were a careful ballet. Will let him manipulate his face, so sweetly trusting, even tightening the skin of his Cupid's bow without prodding, so that Hannibal did not cut into the ripeness of his full upper lip.

And then they were done, Will's face was baby-smooth and luminous. Hannibal guided him over to the sink to splash off the foamy residue with cool water, before finishing with a massaging application of aftershave balm which drew the boy's eyes closed in utter unself-conscious relaxation.

Hannibal drew away to wash his hands, before turning Will to the mirror to watch his reaction to his much-improved reflection. 

Will stared at himself, touching his face as if he couldn't believe what he saw was real. 

'Wow. So this is what a real shave does, huh? I think I see the appeal now.'

He turned to Hannibal and smiled bashfully. 'Thanks again for, uh, for doing that for me.'

'My pleasure,' said Hannibal briskly.

There was a silence as Will contemplated his feet.

'Well, uh, I guess I'd better-'

Hannibal caught him off guard by cupping his jaw.

'Um, what-' stuttered Will. Hannibal cut him off with a kiss. The boy shuddered and jerked before relaxing into the contact, allowing his mouth to be opened with the silken muscle of Hannibal's tongue.

Hannibal explored the inner counters of his mouth for a moment, before Will pulled away, panting, biting his lip shyly.

'Uh, so. That happened. Can't say I expected it.'

'What it so unexpected?' asked Hannibal, curious and chasing the taste of Will on his tongue.

'Well, yeah. I mean, look at me and – look at you,' said Will, gesturing between them as if it was self-explanatory.

'I am looking,' said Hannibal, amused.  
'Well, then you aren't looking properly. You're – Hannibal Lecter, dashing star of the comics world, and I'm Will Graham, super-awkward teen weirdo and wanna-be artist.'

Hannibal laughed and took Will's ridiculous blushing face in hand, kissing the tips of his scarlet ears.

'I see only a darling, infinitely gifted creature who belongs in my bed and for some strange reason is not yet there.'

He swooped and lifted the boy's lanky limbs into his arms, ignoring his squawk.

'You can't be serious -'

'But I am serious, dear Will,' said Hannibal, carrying his reluctant bundle to the bedroom.

+


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the chapter you've been waiting for. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Check the tags to make sure nothing could trigger you. 
> 
> On another note, I quit my shitty job and it feels so good! I got such a passive-aggressive email from my ex boss... I have a theory, and do let me know if you agree or disagree, that the fancier an institution is, the worse it treats its staff, because the entire system rests on a rigid power hierarchy in which guest/patron = god. Thoughts?

+

Will was obviously inexperienced in matters of physical intimacy; his teeth kept clicking with Hannibal's, and his kissing was more like an eager, puppyish licking of his mouth.

His cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy and hair tousled already.

Hannibal bent over the boy, feeling a thrill at the difference in the build of their bodies; Will so small and boyish, himself looming large and wolfish above him. 

Will wriggled and tried to shuck off his shirt, but got caught in the material, forcing Hannibal to help him free himself, feeling disturbingly paternal in the process.

'Sorry, I- I'm really bad at this,' he stuttered. 'I don't really have much practice,'

'With girls?' asked Hannibal, out of curiosity, although he thought it most likely Will was entirely untouched.

Will huffed a laugh. 'Yeah, right. Most girls think I'm a straight-up freak. They wouldn't talk to me, let alone... kiss me.'

'And boys?' Hannibal knew the answer would be the same but felt an urgency that he receive an answer.

Will grinned shyly. 'Yeah, no. I've never – never even thought about it. Before you, I mean. Although I guess you're more of a, more of a man than a boy, or whatever.'

Hannibal smiled and caught off Will's sputtering.

Will pulled away and stared at the sheets, bunching them in his hands.

'Are you – are we going to, um... Is this?'

'Are we going to engage in acts of intimacy? I hope so, but only so if you wish and up to the point you feel comfortable.'

'Thanks, but you don't have to, like, hold my hand or something. I might be a virgin but I'm not a fainting flower.'

'That you are not,' Hannibal agree, leaning down to dot kisses down Will's neck, his delicate collar bone, catching the tight nub one of nipple in his mouth, to the boy's shocked gasp and thrash. 

Will was delightfully sensitive, it seemed. 

He reached up to tug at Hannibal's sleeve. 

'Yes?'

'Can you – I mean, it's just kind of intimidating to be the only one undressed...'

'As you wish,' said Hannibal, peeling off his shirt. 

Will tentatively touched the coarse grey hair on his chest, scratching lightly. 

'Does that feel okay?'

Hannibal shrugged. 'I'm afraid I have little sensation in my chest area, but that is not necessarily true for all men.'

Will drew Hannibal into a kiss, pulling him over himself. He kicked off his shorts and boxers, revealing an entirely ungroomed, thick thatch of dark curls, his red, circumstanced cock weeping over his stomach. He covered his crotch bashfully. 

'I want to see you, too,' he confessed, voice hoarse.

'I live to please,' said Hannibal, husking himself of his jeans and black briefs. Will bit his lip, hugging his knees as he glanced at Hannibal's thick, uncut cock hanging full and intimidating between his legs.

'You're, uh – big,' said Will, shyly into his arms, crossed over his knees, as if to protect his naked vulnerability.

'You have nothing to be ashamed of on that account,' replied Hannibal, kissing one scarlet ear poking through dark curls.

'Um, thanks.'

Will allowed himself to be pulled into Hannibal's arms, melting as he was kissed.

'You don't think I'm too hairy, or skinny? What about my acne scars?'

Hannibal smiled.

'I see nothing but utter perfection. This may be hard to believe, but I was once an adolescent myself, and not a particularly attractive one at that.'  
This was not strictly speaking true; Hannibal had never had any insecurities or self-consciousness about his personal appearance, even as a teenager. But there was no need for Will to know that.

Will giggled. 

'How come I find that so hard to believe?'

'Believe what you like, Will. But there is a reason why are you are here with me know, and not simply because of your intriguing drawings.'

'If you say so...'

'Indeed I do.' And Hannibal flipped the boy over on the bed, where he landed with a surprised oomph!, to trail kissed down his spine.

Will shivered at the touch and hummed, peeking over his shoulder.

'What are you doing back there?'

'Do you trust me, Will?'

'Yeah, I guess.'

'If I do anything you dislike, tell me and I will stop at once, I assure you. But if you trust me, I will make you feel very good indeed.'

'I'll hold you to that - Ah!' broke off Will, as Hannibal spread open the split peach of his buttocks, licking along the crease, pressing a sucking kiss to the brown rose of the boy's hole. 

He pulled his head up and asked, teasing, 'Would you like me to stop?'

'No, please!' cried Will, thrusting the small bowl of his hips up. 'Don't you dare!'

Hannibal laughed. 'As you wish,' sinking the meat of his tongue into the tight furl of the rim, softening with liquid movement. This most primal, private orifice of Will's tasted earthy, rich, like the finest French truffle.

Will moaned and squirmed, fisting the sheets. 'Isn't that – isn't it gross? To lick there?'

Hannibal rested his chin on the perfect rounds of Will's derriere, considering. 

'I don't find it so, if one is clean and careful. I consider anilingus something of a delicacy, but it is a matter of personal taste.'

'Are you – are you going to kiss me, with that mouth?' asked Will coyly, eyes half-hidden behind his fringe of lashes. 

'I live to serve,' answer Hannibal, bending up to give him a deep, open-mouthed kiss.

He reached for his silky Kiki de Montparnasse water-based lubricant and ultra-thin, soft latex luxury condoms in the side drawer of the bedside table. 

Will looked at the products and laughed. 

'Of course drugstore lube and vending machine condoms aren't good enough for you,' he giggled. 'What, does it have gold flakes in it or something?'

Hannibal gave him a hearty spank on the rump for that remark.

'You should appreciate that I expect only the best for myself, and for those lucky enough to share my bed.'

'Yeah, yeah. Can we get on with it already?' said Will, too cheeky for his own good.

For that he earned one slick, slender finger up the anus, which he took with a gasp as if he'd be shocked.

'Alright, Will?' asked Hannibal. He monitored the boy's breathing, and noticed when the hot clench of muscle eased slightly, allowing for another finger. 

'Y-yeah. It's – feels weird. But not bad.'

Will's brows were tensed at the feeling of the strange intrusion. Hannibal bided his time, opening him up with plenty of lubrication and waiting for the boy to relax enough to let him inside the holy furnace of his body.

Will helped him roll on the condom, shy – 'I've never done that before' – turning over sweetly, readying himself for penetration. 

Hannibal disliked the sheath of even the highest-quality condom, but it could not be helped. 

Gently, gently, Hannibal entered, and slowly, slowly, the tight clasp of Will's body eased, until his cock was embedded to the root in the molten pleasure of the boy's anus. 

Will shook and panted, as if he had run a race, while Hannibal soothed him, stroking up his flank like a horse, murmuring sweet words of affection. He reached under Will's hips to revive his shrunken erection, pulling it with a twist of his wrist in time to his thrusts. 

In this way, the rocking of their bodies that most rhythmic dance in nature, a flowing deep and sure like an ocean current, Will cried out and came, the ropes of his release spurting over the sheets.

He slumped down in the unseeing oblivion of ecstasy while Hannibal took his pleasure in his limp body, fucking him like a great predator, and reaching his own peak with a silent baring of teeth.

Hannibal was careful to even roll off the boy so that Will would not have to bear his greater weight, lying still, satisfied in his pleasure. 

Will peeked up at him shyly, too awkward for words, but longing for connection, for touch. 

Hannibal sensed this need and pulled the boy into his arms, where he curled up like a cat.

+


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More self-indulgent porn! Yay! Not much else to say, folks...
> 
> Also Will is a complete cuddleslut.

+

Will was awake. Hannibal knew this for the boy had been shifting uneasily for hours, but not tossing and turning as he clearly wished to in an effort to avoid waking Hannibal. 

Finally Hannibal could stand no more flip-flopping, reaching out a hand to still him.

Will startled at the touch.

'Oh, I'm sorry – I, um, I thought you were already asleep.'

'I was not asleep, merely resting.' 

Hannibal was one of those lucky creatures who needed only a few hours of sleep a night to function perfectly adequately. 

'Oh, okay.' Will wriggled again, almost unconsciously, as if he could not help himself. 

'May I ask if there is something on your mind? You seem to be troubled, and I can only hope you are not regretting our encounter already,' said Hannibal, although he had no doubt that that was not the real issue Will seemed to be struggling with.

It was most likely a combination of nerves, being unused to sharing a bed, and the general adrenaline of one's first sexual experience.

'No! No, it's not that. I have no regrets. You were great, even though I, uh, probably sucked compared to most people you sleep with.'

'Not at all. To be frank, I relish the chance to play mentor to one unpracticed in the art of love.'

'The art of love? You know, you can just say 'sex', and I'll know what you mean.' Once again, the boy was far too impudent for his own good.

'Do not dodge the question, Will. And kindly remember that English is not my mother tongue.'

'Well, English is my mother tongue, and I can barely communicate in it most of the time.'

'And to get back to the point at hand...'

'What? Oh, uh, sorry, I've just never slept with someone else in bed before. I didn't mean to disturb your rest or whatever.'

'Your presence in my bed is more than welcome, Will, as I think I have amply established.'

'Okay, well, um, this sounds dumb or whatever, but I was wondering if, uh, if - '

'Yes?'

Will's face burned beet-red. 

'If we could, um... cuddle. If that's not too weird. I mean, I know it's lame and needy - '

Hannibal cut off the stammering, ridiculous boy by gathering him into his arms, so that they lay curled into each other, spooning Will's smaller frame.

'Is this satisfactory?'

'Yeah. It's great. Thanks for, uh, humoring me.'

Hannibal laughed, a soft huff of air that stirred Will's shadowy curls. 

'If I had no wish to grant your request, believe me when I say I would not have obliged you.'

In fact, had Will since ceased to amuse him, he would have been coldly ejected from Hannibal's bed and suite hours ago. 

At the thought, he pressed a kiss to the boy's dewy temple and let the spell of slumber pull him under once again.

+

Around six in the morning, Hannibal awoke, feeling much refreshed, although he had only slept a few hours. 

Will was making sweet snuffling noises in his sleep, his eyes moving beneath the thin, lavender skin of his eyelids. 

Hannibal contemplated his seraphic beauty for a deeply satisfying, if slightly melancholy, moment, wishing he had the time to draw a portrait of the sleeping boy, who was already aroused, like Hannibal, with a morning erection.

Hannibal had planned to slip out of bed to bathe, but instead he lay back against the pillows, stroking his rigid cock, which now that he contemplated it, was large in relation to Will's. 

Will snuffled again and blinked open his eyes muzzily, arching his back with a yawn. He smiled up at Hannibal, a little red-faced, unsure where to look when Hannibal did not cease his masturbation.

'Good morning, Will,' said Hannibal evenly, as he fisted his cock.

'Um, hi.' Will was quiet for a moment, watching glassy-eyed. 'Can I – can I touch you?' he asked, voice small and timid.

'Be my guest,' said Hannibal, pulling the boy who blindly offered himself into his lap, Will's legs falling open obediently.

'Have you slept with more men or women?' asked Will dreamily. 

Hannibal kissed him, tender, despite their fetid morning breath.

'Does it matter?'

'Not really. Just wondered.' Hannibal saw that he was not lying, did not seem quite so intimated at the thought of Hannibal's scores of previous lovers. Will was beginning to understand that this was no competition. 

Hannibal thought of nubile girls, virile men, voluptuous women and beautiful boys. All lost in pleasure, shameless and glazed with sweat.

Will hitched his cock against the firm plane of Hannibal's stomach, rabbiting against him until he came rapidly, gasping shocked at the sight of the sudden, glutinous pale ropes he'd produced on Hannibal's chest. Hannibal followed soon after, grunting, eyes on Will's liquid gaze, stupefied with orgasm.

Hannibal allowed them both to lay there for a moment and catch their breath, before he swung the unresisting boy into his arms, bridal style, sweeping into the bathroom to clean them both up.

+


	8. Chapter 8

Hannibal drew a warm bath while Will sat on the marble steps of the tub, rubbing his eyes sleepily, his other arm drawn over his lax cock. Sticky semen was caught in his wiry thatch of pubic hair, as it was in Hannibal's own, and his chest hair. 

Hannibal's normal inclination would have to wash himself right after the act as he was very fastidious about cleaning up messes, especially his own, immediately. But somehow he enjoyed the look of Will splattered with both of their ejaculate, how it had lingered like dewdrops on the black strands before smearing and crusting on his skin.

The smell of sex was heady and potent, still clinging to both their bodies. 

'You look even more bewitching in the morning light, Will.'

Will blushed and smiled, pleased.

'You don't look too horrible yourself. No absinthe goggles needed,' he teased.

Something about the way the boy said it maddened him like an animal. 

He dropped to his knees on the bathroom floor, cushioned only by a towel matt, his mouth open and hungry at Will's slim stomach, the wet saltiness beading on the head of his cock. Hannibal swooped down to take his erection in his mouth, at which Will whined vehemently, grunting even, hitching his hips and pushing his pelvis against Hannibal's devouring lips. The boy's fingers plucked at his hair, and his tight little nipples saluted him when Will pulled Hannibal up, bleating for a kiss, to taste himself on his lips. 

'Fuck,' he muttered. 'Fuck', as he violently tugged his cock, Hannibal's hand moving to aid his search for release. Will came with a stuttering cry, his small body winding into Hannibal, arm grasping at his neck for purchase.

Hannibal suddenly wanted nothing more than to come inside the boy again, but this time bare, skin to skin, emptying himself into the heat of the boy's bowels.

Will sagged against him, exhausted. 'What are... you doing to me,' he said, without enough energy to make it a question.

Hannibal kissed damp curls matted to his forehead and did not answer.

He helped Will slide into the tub with a sigh, the light catching on the dusting of freckles of his shoulders. Hannibal reached out to trace them, dotted like a starry sky. The moist swirl of baby-soft dark hair at the tender nape of his neck, tufted like the tail of a duck.

Will's head lolled heavy on the stem of his neck, while Hannibal let the hot water run again as the water had grown lukewarm during their amorous exertions. 

'Are you – gonna join me?' he asked, shyly. 'There's plenty of room.'

And there was room enough in the tub, more the size of a jacuzzi, for a full-grown man and a teenage boy. 

Hannibal slipped in behind Will, drawing him to rest against his chest, head against his shoulder. Will hissed a little at the movement, likely from having been relieved of his anal virginity only hours before.

'How are you feeling?' asked Hannibal, feeling solicitous.

'Um, fine,' said Will bashfully, staring down at the water. 'A – a little sore, I guess. But I think that's normal for, uh, this, right?' 

'Certainly,' said Hannibal, reaching for a bottle of perfumed hotel shampoo and applying it to Will's hair and working it to a lather, like a father, careful not to let the suds drip into his eyes. 

'The human body is not ready made for anal penetration, so that extra lubrication and the utmost care should always be taken, especially with one inexperienced with the act.'

Will shifted uncomfortably at Hannibal's clinical description.

'Well, I'm glad you, um, deflowered me gently,' he joked, then looked embarrassed he had said anything at all. Especially anything about being deflowered.

Hannibal smiled but made no comment, concentrating on washing Will thoroughly, his aromatic armpits, his shallow navel, his groin, which stirred at his touch, and then oh so carefully, the cleft of his buttocks. Will flinched only a little, his smooth sleek body sliding against Hannibal's skin.

'You're so nice to me. I guess it was lucky I ran into you at that panel. I mean, you could have sat next to anybody...' said Will dreamily. 'I'm glad you didn't,' he added, voice quiet.

'As am I, Will. As am I,' said Hannibal, playing with Will's wet curls.

But it was almost seven-twenty, and Hannibal had breakfast to prepare in the kitchenette before they started their day.

In the bedroom, a cellphone rang and startled Will out of his reverie. The ring tone was not Hannibal's own, Beethoven's 9th symphony.

'Shit,' said Will, scrambling to stand and get out of the tub. 'I think that might be my dad.'

Hannibal echoed Will's first sentiment in his own thoughts.

+


End file.
